Writer: Aaron

Name: B'nault
Character type: Dragonrider
Rank: Weyrling
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Fluid


B'nault carries himself with an air of confidence. Not so much that he always knows what he is doing, but always that he is where he is supposed to be. He maintains an almost permanent scowl when not actively smiling, a sort of resting frown. His icy blue eyes seem to contribute to rather than detract from his stern expression. He has softer features, a somewhat rounded jaw, and larger ears, and these, in contrast to his eyes, do lend an air of obvious youth to him that can make his stoic posture seem a little more hard to take seriously. He is of average height, about 5'10", and likely cannot hope to grow another inch yet. He has a strong, solid build with broad shoulders, and his dense musculature ensures that he is even heavier than he looks. His skin is paler than many Istans, though his time at the weyr may gradually change that. He keeps his raven black hair cut short.


B'nault has big plans for the weyr. He views himself and his holdborn cohort as a fresh injection of new Istan leadership to a clearly faltering weyr. He believes the weyr has failed Ista, and now it is time for Ista to step up and rebuild the weyr so the rest of the Island can rebuild in safety. He is holding onto quite a bit of anger toward the weyr, blaming the dragonmen for the cascading, catastrophic, and unexpected failure of the Island's infrastructure during First Fall, which ultimately resulted in widespread death and destruction that has defined the last Turn on the Island. The efforts to rebuild, while still sending tithes to the weyr, have left a bitter taste in B'nault's mouth, and the talk of the adults of the holds have spurred him to his current passion for establishing himself as a the beginning of a new direction for the weyr, one that will respect the people and not leave the Protectorate to fend for itself. "We deserve a say in the Weyr, too. We deserve a chance to protect ourselves."

B'nault is confident, but wary of arrogance or too much self-assuredness. It was the weyr that was too sure in its ability. It was the weyr that has refused or resisted Outside help from weyrs that did not fail their people. He intends to avoid making the same mistakes. This attitude has been heavily fueled by the efforts of his mining community to rebuild in such a way as to avoid the same structural problems that led to such a complete collapse of the mine. He believes he has a unique experience of the consequences of failure that will give him special insight into Threadfighting leadership.

All in all, B'nault is far less clever than he thinks he is, and his intentions are far more obvious than he realizes. He is not unlike a child, who, believing that those he cannot see in turn cannot see him, attempts to sneak past entirely in the open but with his eyes covered.

B'nault is driven to outperform his weyrborn peers and will push his holdborn peers to do the same. They have to do better than the weyrborn, because the weyrborn were not good enough.

Common Knowledge

B'nault is a former miner whose mine collapsed when Thread got into the ventilation shafts and ate through the wooden supports. Many who sought shelter underground were killed.


Brennault was born to a long line of miners. His whole life, the entire community was formed around the mine and supporting the mining operation. Much of their holding was above ground, as they built outward from the Old Stone Hold with wood and brick for nearly a century after most believed Thread was gone for good. When the First Fall came, most were still in denial. The hold's population could not all fit inside the Old Stone Hold, so many of them took shelter in the mines underground. Brennault's family was among those whose quarters were safe inside, and he could do nothing but wait and listen. He could hear and feel the rumbling as the mines collapsed.

When everything was over, and ground crews had managed to find enough flamethrowers and water buckets to kill the burrowing Thread still on the surface, it was time to survey the damage. All of the wooden structures outside the Old Stone Hold were destroyed, and anyone who had tried to stay there was eaten along with the rest.

The following Turn was marked by the continuing excavation of the mine. Brennault had never seen such horrific things in his life. So much Thread had made it through the Wings that it had burrowed down through the ventilation shafts and into the wooden supports. That had been what collapsed the mine. Many were crushed by falling stone. Some were trapped behind the stone with the Thread, and they had wished they had been crushed.

The population remaining made room inside the Old Stone Hold. Not a single one was willing to try to rebuild the outside extensions. And when the first Searches came looking for Candidates, the dragonmen received no warm welcome. Gradually, the mines began to produce ore again. It was not until word came that the Weyrleader had ordered no Searches of the Holds that the holders became incensed. It did not matter to them that Searches were not and never had been the norm for every clutch, and it did not matter to them that they had only just a short time ago given the Searchriders short shrift - they were still aching to direct blame for their circumstances at the Weyr. So, how dare they?

The weyr was obviously broken, and it would have to fall to the holders to protect themselves. It may have been that such sentiment never would have emerged without the contrived appearance of a snub from the weyr, but when next the Search dragons came, the holders all but insisted that as many go to the weyr as were suitable to Stand.

It certainly had nothing to do with the hardship of feeding so many after the fields and gardens had been devoured.

Brennault held his tongue when he first arrived, keeping his thoughts to himself and avoiding much contact with the weyrborn Candidates. He wanted absolutely nothing to come out of his mouth that might tip his hand. Still, he cultivated a relationship with the holdborn, working to forge a quiet solidarity. Not until he walked off those Sands with a dragon of his own would he let on what he was going to do. And even then, he planned to keep his plans as quiet as he could - for holdborns' ears only - if for no other reason than to ensure no negative consequences for future Search Candidates.

Birthdate: 09.29
Birthplace: Old Stone, minor hold?



Father: Naulten
Mother: Brenna





Dragon Name: Seonharth
Color: Bronze
Age: 0
Weyr of Origin: Ista
Weyrling Class: Date


Seonharth has the body of a bull, a barrel chest that nearly seems to threaten to touch the ground, thick, strong limbs, and even his headknobs seem to take the place horns in a way. His tail is short and broad, and his wings are as sails when unfurled. He is a bright, shiny brassy bronze with a hint of rosy copper along most of his body and a more silvery or zinc color on his face and paws. He will always be among the largest of his cohort. His claws are long enough to click against the stone as he walks. And when he walks, when he flies, when he stands, he will have an air of confident majesty about him.


Seonharth assumes that he is in charge. Of course, he can understand the notion of being subordinate, but his natural posture is to take command. And he will simply not understand should anyone challenge him. In most cases, he will be or at least believe himself to be entirely sensible, and he will be unable to comprehend when others see him as condescending or rude. He truly cares for them, can they not see that? And he does. He will take any losses under his watch personally, and it will take him some time to learn to come to terms with the idea that no one can have a perfect record of no casualties forever. Seonharth is entirely incapable of not taking everything literally. No metaphor could ever fly over his head, because his reflexes are too quick, and he would catch it.

Common Knowledge

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